A Scandal in Oxford
~ * * * ~
The characters of Sherlock Holmes, Mycroft Holmes, Mrs. Hudson, and Mary Russell all belong to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and Laurie R. King. The character of Harriet Vane belongs to Dorothy L. Sayers. All other characters belong to me and are entirely fictional.
~ * * * ~
I was so engrossed in the work I was doing that autumn day of 1921 in the Bodleian Library that I jumped when the courteous library assistant tapped my shoulder.
"Miss Russell, it's nearly closing time," he said nervously.
I looked up and my eyes went out of focus, so I took off my glasses.
"Yes, of course," I replied, "Do you mind waiting for a moment while I tidy up?"
"Not at all," he said with a smile. "In fact, Miss Woodhouse told me the same thing when I told her not a few minutes ago. Isn't she the person you are tutoring, Miss Russell? That's what I've heard."
"Yes, I'm tutoring Miss Woodhouse, in theology actually," I said curiously.
"Excuse me now, Miss Russell, but I have some cleaning up to do," he said brightly, disappearing among the shelves.
I rubbed my eyes, then put my glasses back on and went to tidy up my work table. When I finished, I left and headed for the rooms that I was renting. I had just reached the front door of the house, but was stopped by someone calling my name.
"Miss Russell!" It was Lily Woodhouse, the girl who I had just begun to tutor at the beginning of the term. "Goodness, you walk fast! I've been trying to catch up with you since the Bodleian. I just have a few questions to ask about the rabbi Akiva."
So instead of writing my article for an American journal, I worked with Lily on her studies. I was not a formal tutor in Oxford because I lived in Oxford for only part time. For the rest of the time, I lived mostly in Sussex with my husband of not yet a year, Sherlock Holmes, and sometimes in London, where I had a flat.
For the first time in many days, I thought about my husband, who had been my friend and teacher since I was fifteen. It seemed strange that we should be married now, but after a gruelling case earlier in the year, we decided that it would be better that way. In my reverie, I fiddled with the gold band on my finger. Lily looked up and noticed this and the look on my face.
"Miss Russell, is something wrong?"
"No, Lily, I'm fine. What was it that you were asking about again?"
"I asked if you were married. I saw the ring on your finger and got curious." She looked at me for a moment and blushed. "If you don't want to talk about it, that's alright. I'm sorry if I've hurt you in any way, Miss Russell. You've done so much to help me in theology and now I've gone and put my foot in my mouth."
I laughed and hurried to reassure her. "You're right, Lily, I am married. But you didn't hurt me by asking me. I'm not one of those women who lost their fiances in the war. In fact, I married one of my greatest friends."
"Really? That's brilliant, Miss Russell. Did you know anyone who fought in the war?" Lily brushed her brown curls out of her eyes and looked at me.
"Yes, I do know one or two, but they came back to England, not unhurt by the war, but they survived." Thoughts of the aristocratic duke's son and my friend Veronica's husband went through my mind.
Lily was silent for a moment, then she spoke again. "My brother and his friend fought in the war. They joined up in early 1918 and were privates in the artillery. My brother's friend came back, he lives in London and works now in the art business, but my brother didn't come back. He was shot a week before Armistice."
Throughout the whole time that I had known her, Lily had not said that much about her family. I personally did not expect her to because I certainly did not speak about my family to anyone but Holmes. But still, to watch your brother and his friend leave together and then have only the friend return, it must have been quite trying on her family. I looked at Lily and saw that she was crying.
"Don't cry, Lily, those things happened to many people all through England," I said soothingly, but she continued to sob. "My own family died just before the war. My brother and my parents all died at the same time, but I'm still here now. It's alright to mourn, but you shouldn't let it bother you so."
"I suppose that you're right, Miss Russell," she sniffed, "I'm just being a baby about the whole thing. I've always been rather sensitive, that's what Brian, my brother, used to say."
We talked about theology for another hour, then Lily looked at the clock and got up to leave. Before I let her out the door, she turned and spoke to me.
"Thank you, Miss Russell, you've been such a great help. The dean said that I might get through with a First now, instead of just a second. And thanks for the advise, too. I'll try not to dwell on the past so much anymore. Good night, Miss Russell."
"Good night, Lily," I called out as she ran across the street and into the night.
That would be the last that I would ever see of Lily Woodhouse.
~ * * * ~
The characters of Sherlock Holmes, Mycroft Holmes, Mrs. Hudson, and Mary Russell all belong to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and Laurie R. King. The character of Harriet Vane belongs to Dorothy L. Sayers. All other characters belong to me and are entirely fictional.
~ * * * ~
I was so engrossed in the work I was doing that autumn day of 1921 in the Bodleian Library that I jumped when the courteous library assistant tapped my shoulder.
"Miss Russell, it's nearly closing time," he said nervously.
I looked up and my eyes went out of focus, so I took off my glasses.
"Yes, of course," I replied, "Do you mind waiting for a moment while I tidy up?"
"Not at all," he said with a smile. "In fact, Miss Woodhouse told me the same thing when I told her not a few minutes ago. Isn't she the person you are tutoring, Miss Russell? That's what I've heard."
"Yes, I'm tutoring Miss Woodhouse, in theology actually," I said curiously.
"Excuse me now, Miss Russell, but I have some cleaning up to do," he said brightly, disappearing among the shelves.
I rubbed my eyes, then put my glasses back on and went to tidy up my work table. When I finished, I left and headed for the rooms that I was renting. I had just reached the front door of the house, but was stopped by someone calling my name.
"Miss Russell!" It was Lily Woodhouse, the girl who I had just begun to tutor at the beginning of the term. "Goodness, you walk fast! I've been trying to catch up with you since the Bodleian. I just have a few questions to ask about the rabbi Akiva."
So instead of writing my article for an American journal, I worked with Lily on her studies. I was not a formal tutor in Oxford because I lived in Oxford for only part time. For the rest of the time, I lived mostly in Sussex with my husband of not yet a year, Sherlock Holmes, and sometimes in London, where I had a flat.
For the first time in many days, I thought about my husband, who had been my friend and teacher since I was fifteen. It seemed strange that we should be married now, but after a gruelling case earlier in the year, we decided that it would be better that way. In my reverie, I fiddled with the gold band on my finger. Lily looked up and noticed this and the look on my face.
"Miss Russell, is something wrong?"
"No, Lily, I'm fine. What was it that you were asking about again?"
"I asked if you were married. I saw the ring on your finger and got curious." She looked at me for a moment and blushed. "If you don't want to talk about it, that's alright. I'm sorry if I've hurt you in any way, Miss Russell. You've done so much to help me in theology and now I've gone and put my foot in my mouth."
I laughed and hurried to reassure her. "You're right, Lily, I am married. But you didn't hurt me by asking me. I'm not one of those women who lost their fiances in the war. In fact, I married one of my greatest friends."
"Really? That's brilliant, Miss Russell. Did you know anyone who fought in the war?" Lily brushed her brown curls out of her eyes and looked at me.
"Yes, I do know one or two, but they came back to England, not unhurt by the war, but they survived." Thoughts of the aristocratic duke's son and my friend Veronica's husband went through my mind.
Lily was silent for a moment, then she spoke again. "My brother and his friend fought in the war. They joined up in early 1918 and were privates in the artillery. My brother's friend came back, he lives in London and works now in the art business, but my brother didn't come back. He was shot a week before Armistice."
Throughout the whole time that I had known her, Lily had not said that much about her family. I personally did not expect her to because I certainly did not speak about my family to anyone but Holmes. But still, to watch your brother and his friend leave together and then have only the friend return, it must have been quite trying on her family. I looked at Lily and saw that she was crying.
"Don't cry, Lily, those things happened to many people all through England," I said soothingly, but she continued to sob. "My own family died just before the war. My brother and my parents all died at the same time, but I'm still here now. It's alright to mourn, but you shouldn't let it bother you so."
"I suppose that you're right, Miss Russell," she sniffed, "I'm just being a baby about the whole thing. I've always been rather sensitive, that's what Brian, my brother, used to say."
We talked about theology for another hour, then Lily looked at the clock and got up to leave. Before I let her out the door, she turned and spoke to me.
"Thank you, Miss Russell, you've been such a great help. The dean said that I might get through with a First now, instead of just a second. And thanks for the advise, too. I'll try not to dwell on the past so much anymore. Good night, Miss Russell."
"Good night, Lily," I called out as she ran across the street and into the night.
That would be the last that I would ever see of Lily Woodhouse.